Music that you play
by Ayingott
Summary: The sound of the soft notes, made by a piano fluttered through the house. And his feet start to move, following the soft, kind sound. Blindly following it.


_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you._

_Hear it, feel it secretly possess you._

The sound of the soft notes, made by a piano fluttered through the house.

It was quiet, empty and dark where he stood. To him it all seemed so surreal, as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

As if this all was just a dream. A bad nightmare, that would vanish once you realize that it's just a dream and hurriedly open your eyes to find yourself tangled in the sheets. Small tears quivering in the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks as you make a sudden move to sit up straight in your bed.

But the sounds of the piano chase away the binding numbness that has taken over him. It wakes the emotions that had been sleeping for so long.

And his feet start to move, following the soft, kind sound.

Blindly following it.

_Open your mind._

_Let your fantasies unwind._

He moves silently through the seemingly abandoned house. His eyes fall on the dark silhouettes of the dusty furniture; warping their form and making them seem more alive.

And he thinks he can hear their quiet whispers as they gossip about him. The creaks of the old floor boards laugh at his weak self, as if mocking everything that he has done until now.

Colorful memories flash across his eyes and his mind creates the happy scenes right in front of him, as if trying to make him believe that it never happened, that it was just a dream.

But the music still keeps him tied to the reality, leading him further into the house. To him it feels like someone had tied a string to his arm and is pulling it back to himself, together with him.

_In this darkness that you know,_

_You cannot fight_

_The darkness of the music of the night._

He feels like a marionette. The invisible strings that are tied to his arms and legs are being pulled by that soft tune, that comes from somewhere inside the house. And the one playing the mysterious and unknown melody knows that he is controlling someone.

That someone being him.

It's useless to try and resist that silent force that's pushing and pulling him. He knows that's it's futile, even if this is the first time that this has happened to him. But at the same time it feels as if he has lived through this thing day after day, like a routine.

And the numbness has disappeared and the fairytale images and false noises and whispers are gone, but to him it still feels like they are still there, looking at him from behind and waiting.

Waiting for him to fall and crumble.

Waiting for him to break.

But the song is protecting him with its overwhelming darkness, power to make one do as it pleases. It wraps him in a nonexistent shield and keeps it all away.

And then he sees light coming from one of the rooms. And he can see the air quiver as the soft music flows out through the open doors.

And he walks in the poorly, but at the same time brightly, lit room.

The music stops.

_If you don't have a base, then_

_The roads to your goals are non-existent._

And then they meet.

The marionette finally sees that someone who controlled him and probably still controls. He just stares at the person and waits. Waits for something to happen, for something to start moving again.

"What will you do now?"

He doesn't know what to answer. If it would have been asked to him days ago he would have answered immediately, without thinking twice about it.

But now it was different.

Now there was emptiness in his mind. He felt empty and cold. He couldn't answer. Not to this question.

"What do you want to do?"

And his lips move. It isn't something he thought about or knew all along. It was like someone was speaking for him, moving his lips, slowly forming the syllables and deciding for him.

"Die."

_I have a base,_

_But that doesn't stop me from dreaming of going higher._

"Wrong answer."

He doesn't respond. It feels useless to answer the same thing or think of something to replace that one word that was forced out of his mouth.

"What do you want?"

He knows the answer to this one. No one has to force it out of him this time; no one has to answer for him.

"To get rid of the pain."

He isn't looking at the other anymore. He looks through the window behind him. The thin glass pane has a thin cover of ice on it. Just like himself, only the icy layer around him us much thicker and colder.

But it started to melt as the first sounds of the song found him.

"Then you will need to live on. And have someone that love you stay besides you."

_Are you wishing to go higher?_

He didn't answer, only started to wait again. He didn't know for what – the song to start again or for the first snowflakes that would soon flutter from the gray, cold skies.

He didn't notice how the hot tears, held in for so long started to slide down his cheeks and how the pair of unimaginably warm hands wrapped against his frail body, preventing it from breaking.

Closing the gaps and keeping them closely together.

He didn't move.

He couldn't.

The pain he had tried so hard to hide became visible. It stung him even more than before, but slowly its power weakened, until disappearing completely.

"I love you."

He didn't know how to answer.

Should he answer with the same thing or just keep quiet like all this time?

"I love you, Ryoma."

He couldn't stay silent. He wanted to, but couldn't. Once again his body, his lips moved on their own as if someone was controlling them. Someone that loved him too much to continue to watch him suffer.

His hands clutched in the jacket on the others back and his lips formed words that he had wanted to hide forever and ever.

"Ryoga… I… I love you too."

_Light? Darkness?_

_What difference does it make when you are drifting away in illusions?_

And they stayed locked in that little world, the piano playing that unknown song over and over again.

The melody blinding them together and freeing from the world of pain.

They were free now.

* * *

**A/N: At first this was meant to go differently, but as I wrote it just came to me… My hands just started moved on their own and turned the original idea into something else.**

**I would just like to know if you liked it? **


End file.
